I remember the dirt drive laden in gravel just
off the main asphalt country road.
named after generations of people,
who came before me;
We called family.
I wonder how many trips were
taken in and out,
and for what reasons
as we came and went to this place;
we called home.
Generations of successors grounded
into the beginnings of a southern family.
Two world wars and aromas in the kitchen
with Sunday afternoon get-togethers;
everybody knew everybody
An echo of memories sounds into the tomorrows,
old becomes new and the new often forgetting
the once was, just off the gravel road
leading back to the circled drive grounded into a name;
for generations now forgotten.
© CMM 2008
I talk myself into my run
one foot in front of the other
climbing upwards challenged
laboring a little
just enough to remind me
I pass birds calling
aged trees standing still
among the wood line
while wild brown-eyed susans
wink in sway with a soft wind
a wind I need to release me
I do not stop until the trail ends
Mounting Pegasus under morning night,
we take to wings of running flight.
Among stars and constellations,
entered in morning night.
A falling star drops just ahead,
a silent wish is quickly said.
Into the mystic morning show,
Pegasus and I have nothing to dread.
Heralded by seagulls awaking,
the birds in faint light start taking.
To song and flutter as we pass,
all a part of the morning making.
This runner’s flight crossed into light
from a mystic morning flight.
Pegasus and I ride into red glow
dripping sun just in sight.
copyright: CMM 2010